


Walk Away

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Just the Three of Us [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Kitagawa Daiichi, Seijou Week, Warring teammates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 14:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3532745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his third year of middle school, Kunimi Akira sees that there is no more reasoning with his holier-than-thou setter, so he sets out to do what needs to be done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk Away

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for Seijou Week on Tumblr (http://seijouweek.tumblr.com/post/112207197510):  
> Day 1: Middle School

That stray takeaway carton never stood a chance.

Kunimi sighed as he watched Kindaichi growl at said paper carton as it stuck to the foot he had viciously kicked at it with just seconds before. Teeth clenched, fists knotted. Kunimi would not have been surprised at all if he had looked down and saw Kageyama clinging to Kindaichi, instead.

Their setter was, of course, the source of all this nonsense in the first place.

“People are staring at you, Kindaichi,” Kunimi murmured, not truly heartbroken over his friend looking like an idiot for any other reason than personal safety. After all, Kindaichi had nearly elbowed Kunimi in the chin twice while throwing this little tantrum.

“I don’t care!” Kindaichi snapped, finally freeing his trapped foot. “If any of them knew what I had to put up with, they’d agree with me.”

Rubbing his temples, Kunimi contemplated smacking Kindaichi for his blatant cluelessness. “You’re a little pathetic, you know that?”

Kindaichi flinched before wheeling around and forcing Kunimi to look him in the eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 _Still sensitive_ , Kunimi noted, hiding an ill-timed smirk with a fake yawn. “Isn’t your feud with Kageyama getting a bit old? Aren’t _you_ a little bit old for this?”

Kunimi saw Kindaichi’s face knot up in anger and flinched, feeling a rant coming on, but instead, the latter slumped and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know. I just —” His head lolled back. “We’re supposed to be a team. He told me in our first year that he wanted us to be like Oikawa-senpai and Iwaizumi-senpai.”

With a chortle, Kunimi muttered, “I think he’s too short to head-butt you.”

Kindaichi laughed half-heartedly and they resumed walking towards the train station after a long, grueling practice at the Kitagawa Daiichi Middle School — a place that used to be a lot more fun for them. Even Kageyama had once enjoyed himself before the obsession had set in.

Kunimi sighed again. He seemed to be doing it a lot those days.

They arrived at the train station a little earlier than their usual 19:25 departure time. Perhaps fleeing the gym after practice finished as if their uniforms had been on fire had something to do with it. Kindaichi slouched into the bench on their platform, resting his elbows on his knees as his head hung between his legs.

“I’m supposed to be the ace, Akira. He’s supposed be my partner, not my prison guard.” When Kunimi did not answer, Kindaichi continued, shooting his friend a glance. “Do you know he called me last night and _ordered_ me to do a hundred squats with a kettle bell so I wouldn’t be so slow to jump?”

Though he did not know that, Kunimi was unsurprised. “Did you?”

“Yes,” Kindaichi choked.

That single word hung between them, saying more than Kindaichi probably had the words for, more than Kunimi dared to ask. No one wanted to meet Kageyama’s demands of excellence more than the boy sitting next to him. Tall, strong, passionate Kindaichi wanted to be good enough for Kageyama, to hold up his end of their deal to be the best thing at Kitagawa since the Oikawa/Iwaizumi pair.

Instead, Kindaichi was a 184cm fourteen-year-old child, with tears in his eyes that he didn’t want Kunimi to see, because someone who used to be his friend was treating him like a slow, stupid peasant.

The whole situation was a mess, but Kunimi could not help but agree with Kindaichi. It wasn’t fair or conducive to progress for Kindaichi to be so sore from extra workouts that he limped to the train station in the mornings. Kunimi had almost missed it, chalked it up to the other boy dealing with growing pains again.

At least Kageyama had basically given up on Kunimi, relegating him to the same level of serfdom as the benchwarmers and first years.

“The tournament’s in two days. We’ll go talk to Coach,” Kunimi offered, knowing their advisor’s warnings would fall on deaf ears. “We’ll probably end up getting trounced by Shiratorizawa because we’re busy chasing tosses, anyway.”

Kindaichi’s fist landed hard on the armrest of the bench. “I’m sick of losing because of Kageyama!”

“Then stop losing because of Kageyama,” Kunimi said simply. “Lose because the other team is better than us, not because of His Majesty’s inability to be a teammate. It shouldn’t be that hard. You have all of high school to win a championship. Don’t waste your sweat and tears over a spiteful little dictator.”

Kindaichi’s hands fell to his thighs as he gaped at Kunimi. “You want us to throw a game?”

Shaking his head, Kunimi corrected, “No, I don’t want us to throw a game. We need to stop being Kageyama’s jesters.”

Comprehension dawning, Kindaichi exhaled heavily and nodded. “Yeah. We do.”

 

**_Three Days Later_ **

The prefectural junior high championship match began inauspiciously for Kitagawa. Toss after royal toss brushed fingertips and evaded grasps as the team’s harried wing spikers strove to at least hitch them over the net.

None of them tried harder than Kindaichi Yuutarou. And no one received more harsh words from their irate setter than Kindaichi did.

Kunimi shook his head. They had tried to deal with this in the previous matches, relying on their superior skill sets and strong serving. They could have won the first round match with only three players. The second and third round matches were against teams who had just finished grueling three-set matches that had gone into deuce multiple times, making those opponents weary, sloppy, and easily targeted.

This was not just any match, but enough was enough.

Kindaichi, who had just fallen over the scorekeepers’ table in an effort to hit another of Kageyama’s wild tosses, accepted Kunimi’s extended hand with a stony expression.

“It’s time,” Kunimi said flatly.

“It’s time.”

This time, Kageyama’s toss fell to the floor like many of the others, but Kunimi gave the untouched ball his blessing as it bounced one-two-three-four times and rolled to their coach’s feet.

Kageyama was taken out of the game.

Kunimi looked to Kindaichi and felt his friend’s lack of satisfaction mirrored on his own face, as well as the utter relief. Their first year setter was not remotely ready to take on a championship match, but at least the kid wasn’t playing on a team of one.

And, as Kunimi had predicted, they lost to a superior opponent. It still sucked, but nobody cried in the locker room after the match. Maybe they would later, but for the moment, their assigned locker room at the Sendai City Gymnasium emptied in a hurry.

Except Kageyama, who smoldered on a bench in the corner, a towel draped over his bowed head.

“I’ll meet you at the bus,” Kunimi said to Kindaichi, who was the last one left in the locker room aside from Kageyama and him.

Looking dubiously between Kageyama and Kunimi, Kindaichi frowned and exited, his hand stilling with reluctance before pulling the door shut behind him. For the first time in many, many months, Kunimi was willingly alone with Kageyama Tobio.

“Do you have anything to say?” Kunimi offered baldly.

The answer was barely more than a gasp. “No.”

Nodding, Kunimi stated, “You know why we did it.”

They were doing so well, too. Kunimi sighed. “We are not your servants, and we are not your inferiors. _You_ are nothing but a bully and a despot, and we don’t want anything to do with you.”

Almost surprised at the sharpness of his own tone, Kunimi stood in front of Kageyama’s still-hunched figure and crossed his arms. “I know you have a letter of invitation at home from Aobajousai.” The slight upward notch of Kageyama’s head confirmed this. “When you get home tonight, you’re going to take it out of the envelope, rip it into as many pieces as you can, and flush it down the toilet.”

For the first time since before the benching, Kageyama looked Kunimi in the eye. Utter defeat was stamped on his features as the towel slid to his shoulders. He gave a brief nod before he picked up his bag and wordlessly left the locker room.

Kunimi followed as he left the gymnasium without looking back. The bus ride back to the school was long and silent, but the ease on Kindaichi’s face as he lightly snored against Kunimi’s shoulder settled the bile churning in the latter’s gut. Kindaichi would have been angry at what he had said to Kageyama; he hated bullies and big talkers. However, he did not need to know about that. At least not at the moment.

But Kunimi knew with no doubt whatsoever that he would do it again without hesitation. Not for himself. Not for the first year setter who had gained valuable game experience at Kageyama’s expense. For Kindaichi, who would stop doing lunges during lunchtime, would no longer run in the morning until he threw up his breakfast, would no longer sink lower and lower into his royally-imposed inferiority complex.

A tiny trail of drool escaped the corner of Kindaichi’s mouth as Kunimi regarded his best friend. With a soft, crooked smile, Kunimi thumbed it away and slouched against the window as his iPod soothed away the tattered remnants of the match and of Kageyama Tobio. 


End file.
